Breakout Page 7

  “What are your plans? Did you—” Monarch paused a moment, not sure if she wanted to open herself up for the rejection. “You don’t…want to come to Austin do you?”

  Corbin studied her for a long time. “No.”

  It was like a punch to the gut. Monarch jumped up and made herself busy making the bed. “What d-do you plan to do?”

  “I can’t go to any military settlements, Monarch,” Corbin said flatly. “Even if this is the apocalypse, we don’t know what’s left. If there is any sort of authority left at the state level it will be found at a place like that…I can’t risk being identified. I need to be on my own.”

  Monarch heard him loud and clear. And she understood. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. The reminder that Corbin still hid secrets from her hurt. So did the fact that it was always his intention to leave. “I get it.”

  “I’m going to stay here, at least for awhile. I figure I can clean out your old fuel filter and put it in that other car, figure out how to get that thing running in case I need it. I might head south at some point, Mexico. That was the initial plan when we took the bus.”

  She just kept nodding, unable to speak. It would be dark soon. Somehow she would make it through the next twelve hours, she would pack up her car, and then at first light, she would leave this place, and Corbin, behind.

  ****

  There was a time when the hum of her car running would have sent Monarch into fits of excitement. Now, as she placed her last box of stuff in the backseat and the sun rose on the horizon, she felt only emptiness.

  “Did you pack enough food?”

  The concern in Corbin’s voice set her teeth on edge. How dare he pretend to care now! He had been standoffish all last evening. She laid awake for hours in the master bedroom, but he never came to her. He had claimed soreness from his activity that day and went to sleep on the couch. “Enough food for weeks when I should only need a few days at most even if the roads are clogged up.”

  Corbin was standing on the porch steps, leaning on the railing as Cabernet sat at his feet. “And you have plenty of gas? And a map?”

  “Yes, Corbin. You know I managed to survive for twenty-five years without you. I have over seven gallons of extra gas in the trunk and a perfectly respectable map.” Monarch finished arranging the boxes and turned to face him, though she kept her eyes pointed toward the road.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me one last time what I was convicted for?” He asked suddenly.

  Where the hell had that come from? With the hard look on his face, Corbin seemed as much a stranger to her as the day they met. Had it been just yesterday when he had looked at her with heat in his eyes and declared her his? And now he stood there, cold, again reminding her of the secrets he kept. She didn’t want to play this game but she couldn’t help but ask. “Ok, what was it?”

  “Murder.”

  The word was uttered so quietly she barely heard it. Monarch searched his face, those ice blue eyes. “Did you do it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You know it does.”

  “Yes, I did it.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. She knew what he was doing. He was driving her away. It occurred to her how little she really knew about this man. How much she would never know.

  Monarch said goodbye to Cabernet, who gave her a sweet lick on the cheek, and then got in the driver’s seat. She looked at Corbin one last time, committing everything about him to memory. “I’m glad you didn’t die in that bus crash,” She said honestly, remembering the night they held each other on the couch, which seemed like years ago instead of just days. It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but it was all she could muster.

  “Hope you find what you’re looking for.” With that Corbin turned his back and headed back up the steps. That was their goodbye. Monarch drove away, ugly-crying, deep sobs racking her body. She would never find everything she was looking for, because she had fallen in love with the man in the rear view mirror.

  Post-apocalyptic life sucked big time.

  Chapter 7

  Four months later, Camp Malloy, Austin, Texas

  “You’re such a slob, Jordan.”

  Monarch moved through the cramped barracks room she shared with her seventeen-year-old niece, picking up crumpled clothing.

  “Sorry, Aunt Monie,” Jordan sang from her bunk, using the shortened version of Monarch’s name she’d used since childhood. When she was a toddler she couldn’t pronounce “Monarch” and the nickname stuck.

  “I know. I know you need more space to yourself,” Monarch replied as she put the clothes in the laundry pile.

  “It’s okay, you’re a pretty sweet roomie, when you aren’t nagging,” Jordan said in her usual cheery way. Unlike so many angst-filled teenagers of old, Jordan was a glass-half-full kind of girl.

  Despite the girl’s sunny demeanor, Monarch felt bad that her niece was forced to live in such cramped quarters with her. And as if that didn’t suck enough, Jordan’s eighteenth birthday was the following day, and it made Monarch sick that her niece was going to celebrate such a milestone birthday at an apocalyptic military settlement.

  Monarch hadn’t known what to expect when she’d finally pulled up in front of the large arched sign over the entrance to Camp Malloy four months earlier, confronted by armed guards. She’d experienced utter joy when she was reunited with her niece, even as she grieved at the knowledge that her brother Duke had succumbed to the P-Virus. But Jordan was physically healthy and showed an amazing resilience, and Monarch knew she made the right choice to come here and find her.

  Now she found herself trying to make Jordan’s birthday as happy, and normal, as possible. Camp Malloy used a credit system to ensure every adult pulled their weight. Everyone had an assigned job, and earned a certain number of credits which could be used to purchase items at the exchange such as clothes, toiletries, toys, books, etc. Monarch was grateful to have such a stockpile at her disposal and planned to use a week’s worth of credits earned from her job to buy Jordan some new clothes and maybe a chocolate bar. Nothing fancy, but something to make it special.

  This place was truly a blessing for them. It provided the means to make Jordan’s life at least semi-normal. Plus it was a relief that others were there to handle the particulars. As long as she worked her assigned job, she and Jordan were provided food, shelter, and safety. No more scavenging for food or collecting water in rain barrels.

  Yes, Camp Malloy was indeed a Godsend. Monarch reminded herself of that about a thousand times a day. She had to. Because aside from Jordan’s presence, the camp paled in comparison to that little house in the country, where she once lived on borrowed time with a man who could never be hers.

  Today was Monarch’s day off and though it was a beautiful one, typically mild as any April day in central Texas, she was content to spend it in the tiny shoebox sized room she and Jordan called home. She didn’t really want to spend it listening to the children run around and play on the parade ground nor did she want to spend it socializing in the cafeteria. She didn’t want to see any of the three thousand or so people that resided in this wonderful community. All Monarch wanted to do was lie on her bunk and daydream about Corbin. To gaze at the beautiful pressed tin picture frame he’d given her, her one piece of him that she kept next to her bed.

  Corbin, whose last name she didn’t even know. Corbin, who was a murderer.

  What the hell is the matter with me? Well, for starters, you’re a shitty person, Monarch Winslow.

  Her only concern should be Jordan. Poor Jordan who lost her father, friends, and every other familiar thing in her life. She should be grateful she was given this opportunity to spend her days with her niece, looking out for her as Duke would have wanted. And she was. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about Corbin?

  Because in addition to being a shitty person, you happen to be in love with a man you will never see again.

  Monarch flung herself on to her bunk face-first. She sucked at life
. Anyone else would be ecstatic to have found the security and predictability of Camp Malloy. Sure, for a person who had gotten used to calling her own shots it was a bit stifling, but the settlement ran like a top. There was security, medical supplies and personnel, two hot meals a day—thank God for propane—and a water containment system set up to pipe in twice weekly showers for each person. But without Jordan she would trade it all in a heartbeat to be back in that mobile home.

  And for what? For someone who didn’t want her in the same way? For a man she couldn’t fully trust, who kept his past under lock and key, who’d made love to her then pushed her away?

  She knew Jordan was worried about her. Depression was a common thing among the residents of Camp Malloy for obvious reasons. A few weeks earlier Jordan even went far enough to speak with one of the few nurses about Monarch’s behavior. An anti-depressant from the medicine supply was recommended. But Monarch just shooed the nurse away and then bit Jordan’s head off, all the while feeling guilty as hell for making Jordan upset. There was no cure for her ailment but to put on her big girl panties and get on with life.

  Tired of her train of thought, Monarch lifted her head and asked her niece, “So if you could do anything for your birthday tomorrow what would it be?”

  Jordan was reading an old issue of Cosmopolitan magazine, looking adorable as ever, with her freckled nose and dark brown hair pulled in a ponytail on one side of her neck, her chocolate waves snaking down onto her chest. She’d been bored since she finished school a few weeks back, the handful of teachers on base throwing up their hands and saying there was really nothing more they could teach her. Now she was about to get a job like all the other adults.

  “To spend the day with Ian,” Jordan responded quickly as Monarch rolled her eyes.

  Ian was Jordan’s boyfriend, a twenty-year-old corporal who worked security on the base. He was a nice kid. Monarch liked him but she was concerned at how serious they were getting so quickly.

  Because I’m a hypocrite.

  As of tomorrow Jordan was an adult and Monarch needed to remember that. “Is he off?”

  “He traded a shift with another guy so he could be. We are going for a walk on the track and then he’s put together a picnic with some credits he saved.”

  Jordan’s green eyes lit up as she spoke and Monarch forbid herself from giving any motherly words of caution. She knew what caused the light in those eyes and she wouldn’t rip it from a girl who’d lost so much already. “That sounds romantic. I’m jealous.” Monarch smirked and playfully threw the nail file she’d been using at her niece’s head.

  “Hey!” Jordan dodged the projectile. “There’s no need to be jealous. How about Jack? That guy seems to be pretty hot and heavy in to you. And he’s cute.”

  Monarch frowned. “He’s nice. But not my type.”

  Jack was a very handsome Captain in the Texas National Guard who helped run the base. He was polite, clean cut, kind, and very interested in her. But Monarch continued to put him off because despite his many good qualities she felt nothing romantic for him. Zero. Nada. Zilch.

  It was Jordan’s turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “I don’t really want anything on that level right now,” Monarch lied. “My focus is on doing my job to help get this place where it needs to be.” That much was true. Monarch assisted in keeping the books, including the inventories of all supplies. She provided reports to her superior on inventory levels to avoid shortages and aid the supply run teams. It felt good to have something important to contribute. “And my other focus is to ensure that you are happy and taken care of.”

  Jordan hopped off her bunk and laid down beside Monarch, throwing an arm over her. “Monie, I’m going to be an adult tomorrow. You don’t always have to watch my every move and make sure I’m okay. I’ve survived puberty, high school, and a deadly virus. Don’t you think I can hang out alone with my boyfriend and it not mean I’m in imminent danger?”

  Jordan was right. Monarch had thrown all of her energy into Jordan when they were reunited, which was not necessarily the best thing for her. Her niece felt suffocated by the constant hovering, especially considering she’d made her way on her own for quite some time, just like Monarch had. It wasn’t fair that Jordan should suffer because Monarch was lonely and heartbroken. Monarch sighed. “I suppose.”

  Her niece nudged her, giggling. “After all, it’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

  That joke was getting so old. “Very funny.”

  ****

  “Oh hey, Monarch.”

  She turned at the familiar voice and cringed internally.

  Jack.

  God, not now. She was exhausted after a full day of work and didn’t really want to deal with his full court press. “Hey, Jack, how’s it going,” she said as she continued walking swiftly toward the housing in building B.

  Jack didn’t miss a beat, falling into step beside her. He was tall, super fit, and wiry lean, and Monarch figured he could probably keep this hurried pace for miles without growing winded. There was no getting away from him. He smiled. “Good, good. I missed you at breakfast.”

  Shit! She had promised to meet him for breakfast that morning and completely forgotten. Her cheeks reddened as she recalled what she was doing instead, oversleeping due to a particularly erotic dream starring Corbin.

  Again.

  “I’m sorry, Jack! I overslept. I’ve been tired lately.”

  “I understand,” he said congenially. “It’s not a posh life here at Camp Apocalypso. Did Jordan have a good birthday?”

  “She did, she loved her new clothes. But she couldn’t wait to drop her aunt like a bad habit yesterday and spend the day with Ian. You couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.”

  “Well I’m glad. Though I have to disagree with her. I’d much rather spend the day with you.”

  The smile he gave her was so earnest, so genuine, that for a moment she felt bad for avoiding him. Yes, he was a bit overzealous in his pursuit of her. But could she blame him? Everyone here was looking for a little distraction and what better than a romantic liaison? There were so many hook-ups going on they should change the name to Melrose Place. “I don’t know; I’m rather boring,” she said, laughing, deciding at that moment that, though she still had no intention of a romantic relationship with him, she could at least be a little bit nicer.

  She slowed down and they walked together, chatting, across the grounds. As they passed the automotive garage, Jack commented, “We added another new member to the community two days ago. Did I tell you?”

  “No, that’s great.”

  Jack nodded emphatically, his straight white-blonde hair blowing back in the breeze. “Yeah, he’s an auto mechanic. What a lucky break too since we were really suffering in that department. Can’t keep a fleet ready for supply runs over the long term with no one to work on the vehicles.”

  Monarch’s gut twisted. Just the mention of an auto mechanic had her thinking of Corbin. Who was she kidding, everything had her thinking of him. “That’s great, Jack. I know that’ll be a worry off your already full plate.”

  “Definitely. Do you want to meet him? Since we’re right here?” Jack asked her, pointing his thumb in the direction of the garage.

  Monarch slowed, half expecting the question. Jack was a people guy. He loved introducing, networking, socializing. He had delusions of grandeur, as if eventually they would actually turn this Camp into a cozy little town like Mayberry or Grover’s Corners.

  “Sure.” She would meet Mr. Superman-Mechanic-Guy and then she would bid Jack a polite good night.

  The sun was just beginning to set against the sky as Jack led her through the handful of trucks and hum-vees parked near the garage. It was another gorgeous April day, the weather warm. Monarch let her mind wander as she gazed through the tall chain link fence along the edge of the camp to the highway beyond. Bluebonnets were scattered in abundance along it, creating a breathtaking blue-purple carpet amidst the tall, swa
ying grass. They were a nice distraction from the sea of stalled cars along the road.

  “Right over here,” Jack said and placed a hand on the small of her back as they approached the garage entrance. She let the gesture go, though she wanted to shove his hand off.

  Be nice, you bitch.

  “Carter?” Jack called as they entered the dark cavernous garage. “Carter, are you in here? I have someone I want you to meet.”

  Monarch shivered despite the warmth of the April evening, whether it was from the shadowy garage or the unwelcome feeling of Jack’s hand on her lower back she didn’t know. “Maybe he’s busy,” she said, her words echoing in the hollow building.

  “Be right there,” came a voice from deep inside. It was muffled and gruff, probably coming from under a hood, and for some reason Monarch felt goosebumps raise on her arms.

  “You’ve got pen ink on your face,” Jack said as he gazed down at her.

  She looked up at him. “What? I do?” Monarch began brushing at her cheeks. She didn’t bother to check her reflection in mirrors a lot these days.

  Jack chuckled. “Here let me get it off,” he said as he raised his hand and wiped her cheek with his thumb.

  Monarch heard someone’s throat clear. “Can I help you?” A voice asked, sounding very masculine and very irritated.

  Feeling awkward, Monarch pulled away from Jack’s hand and turned to greet the new mechanic. When her eyes landed on the man before them, she almost gasped. If Jack hadn’t been holding on to her, she probably would have fallen right over. As it was she stood there like a dummy, speechless, while Jack greeted the mechanic named Carter.

  Carter. Who was actually Corbin.

  Holy shit.

  “Hi Carter, how’s the first day going?” Jack asked with a friendly wave. “Seems like you’re getting accustomed to everything.”

  “Goin’ fine.” Corbin stood there, mere feet from her, grease on his hands, wearing gray coveralls. He had several days worth of beard stubble and his hair was longer but it was definitely him. The penetrating icy stare and granite jaw said as much. Monarch felt as if the wind was knocked out of her. She would make a fool out of herself right here. She might pass out. Or vomit. Or, worst of all, she might lunge at him, wrap her arms around him and beg him to never leave her.